


Trust

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: (Campaign 2 Episode 08 Spoilers!)Molly moves and, after a moment of hesitation, he takes one of Caleb’s hands in his own and guides it to the hilt of his scimitar. For a moment, they both appreciate the warmth of Caleb’s bandage-bound fingers over Molly’s on the hilt, then Caleb’s grip tightens a smidgen and Molly pulls his hands away. In the silver of the blade, he sees the crease of disappointment in Caleb’s face, and then dismisses it. Couldn’t be.“Check you out.” He says, and can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to the shell of Caleb’s ear as he extracts himself.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> yknow im gonna aim for like,,, 7 solid days of oneshots. or 7 days of fic. might do a triad followup to hot'n'cold.

Caleb is very, very satisfied with himself.  
One hundred and fifty gold’s worth of good parchment and quality ink rolled and stowed carefully in Jester’s neat new bag, and he fully intends to collect it and retire early, once they’ve all sat down inside The Leaky Tap and had a drink. He folds his arms and leans back, confidence, rare and beautiful.  
He watches Jester grudgingly turf over two of her tarts to Nott, and hand a couple more out to Molly and Beau.  
Caleb expects Beau to scarf it, all in one bite, but she seems to take the moment’s respite to savour the flavour of fruit and sugar in something that isn’t full of alcohol. Caleb suspects it’s been a while since she’s experienced such a pleasure, as Jester’s last round of pastries were almost unidentifiable from their age. Stale like old paper, but still good for casting.  
Molly, however, _does_ eat the whole thing in one bite. And it’s so impressive, in fact, that Caleb’s eyebrows raise and his heart jumps- ah, no, Caleb, that’s not something you should have that reaction to. It’s not something he can help, everything that Mollymauk does impresses him. And after the show of intimidation last night, well… Caleb’s hair stands on end at the retelling, and he wishes he had been mentally present to witness it.  
(He’s _sort of_ glad he wasn’t, the injuries had him losing enough blood. He suspects that if he had been aware, there would have been none left for his brain.)  
Nott stores her tarts carefully inside her cloak, a pocket accessible when she needs to cast in a hurry. Caleb feels a swell of pride in his chest watching her check the seal of the pocket, and then she turns back to Jester with excitement written on her face.  
Beau licks the last of the crumbs from her fingertips and steps into the conversation.  
Mollymauk is at his shoulder, so close to his ear that Caleb feels his breath in the moment before he talks,  
“You clean up well.” He tells Caleb quietly, and Caleb closes his eyes to disguise the involuntary roll that comes with the shudder. Proximity.  
It’s a bitch.  
He unfolds himself and turns as Molly takes a step back, giving Caleb the personal space that, right now, he wholeheartedly despises.  
He wasn’t quite sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with Mollymauk. But there wasn’t exactly that big a window of time, and _in love_ wasn’t something he admitted to himself, because… so many things were wrong.  
Molly is staring at him expectantly. Caleb dredges his personality from the murky waters of overthinking and shakes it dry to reply,  
“What do you mean?” he says, genuinely, and Molly quirks an eyebrow, his arms fold, and one hovers for a moment before splaying out again, toward him, waving a hand in his general direction,  
“You’re clean. Dirt-free. You didn’t have time to bathe, and you’re not wet, so I should assume it happened magically. Prestidigitation, perhaps?” and it’s Caleb’s turn to quirk an eyebrow at Molly’s arcane knowledge.  
“Smart spellwork there, Mollymauk, but I’m still not sure what you mean…” The last few words draw out as he thinks of the Firbolg at The Invulnerable Vagrant, the hand-wave, the statement. Molly, for his part, doesn’t really notice. He’s focusing on stretching an arm over his shoulder and carefully drawing one of his scimitars. He inspects in for a moment, one hand grasps the handle, the other presses a finger gently to the very point of the blade as he turns and observes the glint of light.  
“Here.” He says, and steps around to stand behind Caleb, his arms loop around the wizard’s shoulders, and Caleb watches the flash of the scimitar as it darts neatly around Molly’s fingers and Caleb’s body to settle the widest part of the flat of the blade in front of his face. Molly positions his eyeline roughly at Caleb’s level, and his chin bumps Caleb’s neck, he’s so close. A horn knocks into Caleb’s head gently, and Molly talks quietly,  
“I haven’t got a mirror, I’m afraid this will have to do.”  
Caleb shifts his arm, reaches up to press against Molly’s wrist, the one on the blade of the scimitar, and it tilts the blade so that the light isn’t blinding Caleb any more. And he sees himself.  
There’s white all around the blue of his eyes in shock, and he sees his own gaze dart sideways to look at the half of Mollymauk’s face he can see in the mirror of the blade.  
For the first time in many, many months, Caleb is… clean.  
“Jester said I was beautiful…” The sudden statement clicks into place for him, and he feels Molly tilt his head to push against Caleb’s own, gently.  
“She’s quite right, I think. Here,” Molly moves and, after a moment of hesitation, he takes one of Caleb’s hands in his own and guides it to the hilt of his scimitar. For a moment, they both appreciate the warmth of Caleb’s bandage-bound fingers over Molly’s on the hilt, then Caleb’s grip tightens a smidgen and Molly pulls his hands away. In the silver of the blade, he sees the crease of disappointment in Caleb’s face, and then dismisses it. Couldn’t be.  
“Check you out.” He says, and can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to the shell of Caleb’s ear as he extracts himself.  
(Jester is watching this exchange under the guise of talking to Beau, strategically placed between the boys and herself. Molly is fully aware, and sends a pointed look her way.)  
Caleb is more taken with the trust that Molly has literally and figuratively handed to him, but can’t resist taking a second to tilt the scimitar so he can see down his newly cleaned coat. The Firbolg- Pumat Sol, he remembers brightly- has done an excellent job siphoning away the filth. He notes it down mentally to check out the ‘Prestidigitation’ spell.  
Molly has stepped back and re-folded his arms when Caleb turns back to him. There’s an easy grin on his face, but Caleb can see a hint of something _else_ , something he can’t _quite_ identify. A nervous habit within him pipes up and insists that Molly no longer sees him as _Caleb_ , because Caleb is… a dirty hobo, that smells like yesterday’s garbage, by his own admission.  
He feels a pang of panic and horror. What if Molly hates him now? What if he’s changed? What if…  
And Molly steps in, literally, to lay a hand over Caleb’s on the hilt of the scimitar.  
“Dear, you’re shaking.” Molly says matter-of-factly, then, “Hold on.” He turns to Jester, still watching, and makes a shooing motion. The smaller tiefling pouts, but nods, and Molly watches her say something and wave a hand before leading the rest of the party inside. He finishes glowering them away, then turns back to Caleb.  
Caleb looks and feels so _small_ . His hands shake, worry, anxiety, surely he should be over these sorts of feelings by now.  
“Caleb?” Molly asks, and then turns and pulls Caleb by the hand to a wall, a corner, more sheltered from public view, “Are you okay?”  
Caleb draws himself together like sucking the remnants of a drink from a glass.  
“I’m fine, thank you for lending me this.” He jerks his head toward the scimitar, and lets Molly take it from him. Caleb studies Molly’s expression as he carefully re-sheaths the blade. The concentration, determination, distraction- if Molly had pupils, Caleb was sure they would be trained on him. The strain seems to pull that way, and Molly returns his attentions to Caleb once he’s ensured the buckle is firmly across the scimitars.  
There’s a silence. It grows uncomfortable in moments, and it takes almost a minute for it to become unbearable to Caleb.  
“I understand how much that means.” He filled the silence with a sudden volume, and winced at himself, lowered his voice, continued, “That you let me _touch_ one, never mind holding it.” a beat of silence, “They’re very intriguing to me.”  
Molly smiled, almost a smirk, almost mirthful but more affectionate.  
“If you think touching the scimitar is an experience, you should try touching me.”  
Caleb blinks dumbly at him. Two seconds trickle by, five, ten, and Molly’s face flushes red-violet with each second of silence longer.  
“ _Mein Gott_ , that’s cute.” Caleb says, finally, and it’s not a response to the flirtation but to Molly’s deep blush, so _sudden_ that Caleb starts chuckling immediately after the words leave his mouth. And Molly joins him, he’s not even sure if it’s really that funny, but the sudden drop in subtlety is _hilarious_ all at once. They laugh together, harder, until Caleb is leaned against Molly’s chest to hold himself up, fingers clasped around Molly’s upper arm. The arm that Caleb _doesn’t_ have in a vice-like grip finds it’s way around his waist, instead, and Molly pulls him closer as they sober up.  
“Am I to take that as a reciprocation?”  
“Ah,” Caleb wipes a tear from his eye, “Yes, most definitely, but perhaps not so blatantly in front of our companions.” and there’s a smile, a bright, beautiful smile on his face that Molly finds himself overwhelmed with the desire to kiss.  
So he does, aiming first for Caleb’s cheek, and then the wizard reciprocates and they share their first true kiss, brief and chaste.  
“Jester will be worrying, I had to dismiss her rather abruptly.” Molly says, almost sadly, giving Caleb a squeeze. Caleb hums and takes the opportunity to butt his head under Molly’s chin gently, cat-like. They stand for a moment, together, and let themselves just… be. Then Caleb sighs, and draws back from Molly, his hand lingering on the barest catch of Molly’s fingers.  
“Yes, we should catch up before Jester uses all of my _very_ expensive ink and parchment to draw dick offerings to The Traveller.”  
They part, a pang in each of their chests, and make their way into The Leaky Tap to catch up with their friends, to continue their journey.

**Author's Note:**

> S/o to the followin' peeps for supporting me on the other three works ive posted in this little challenge of mine!
> 
> ace_0f_space, benjaminrussell, FailMonster, ImJustHereForLily, keeks414, Noxialis, phobosapollo, thepenguinqueen, transfinn, Wannabeast, and Zessy!
> 
> Y'all, and all my Wonderful Commenters, are what keeps me goin! I know i rarely reply, I'm not exactly social lmao, but if you wanna hmu on tumblr or twitter I'm mollymockerytealeaf and alpha_geminorum, respectively.  
> (I sound like a robot but if you catch me on an upswing i can wail about molly or caleb for a good while ;D )


End file.
